


Early

by mrs_d



Series: Songs for the Morning [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff, Kitchen Sex, M/M, Morning After, Morning Sex, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pre-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Steve Rogers Can't Cook
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-07 12:04:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5455877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_d/pseuds/mrs_d
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The kitchen looked like a war zone, and Sam blamed the soldier standing in the middle of the room holding an open bag of coffee beans like it was a bomb.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Early

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place right after [Beyond Late](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5309981), so you'll probably want to read that one first.
> 
> Thank you [Hekkenfeldt](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Hekkenfeldt)!

Sam sat up in alarm when a loud clatter echoed through the house.

He took in his surroundings all at once — the room was bright, Steve wasn’t there, but the left side of the bed was messed up — and relaxed. Steve was home. The noise was probably just him; he was a lot of things, but he wasn’t exactly stealthy, at least not outside of shadow conditions.

Sam lay back against his pillow and took a deep breath. Steve was probably just making coffee. He wondered how long Steve had been awake, if he’d even slept at all. Sam hoped so. It had been late enough when he got home, never mind the argument and the hot, slow making up that had followed.

Thinking of Steve’s mouth on him quickly drove out any other concerns as Sam’s gut twisted with arousal all over again. Steve had taken care of him, had made it up to him, like he’d said he would, and Sam had promised to do the same this morning.

He’d formed a vague plan before he fell asleep: he’d wake Steve up slowly, running his fingers through his hair, nuzzling his neck and holding him close. Steve liked the cuddly stuff almost as much as sex itself; Sam had a sneaking suspicion that Steve had gone most of his life without being touched, and while Sam couldn’t change the past, he’d made it his current mission to touch Steve every chance he got.

But that plan was shot now since Steve was already awake and out of bed.

Sam remembered a brief conversation sometime just after dawn, when Steve had squirmed out from under him. He’d brushed his lips against Sam’s temple, told him that nothing was wrong, that he’d be right back, but now Sam wasn’t sure if he’d actually returned.

Given the smell of something cooking (burning?) and the noises from the kitchen, Sam was guessing not. He found his pyjama pants, still balled up at the foot of the bed where Steve had shoved them last night, and a clean t-shirt, and he headed down the hall to see what all the noise was about.

* * *

Really, Sam thought as he entered the kitchen, he should have seen this coming.

On the stove, something brown and crispy was stuck to the bottom of a frying pan. It looked like it might have once been bacon. A bowl of pancake batter was on its side on the counter next to an electric skillet, which was unplugged but still smoking slightly, even though the small dollop of batter in its center looked raw and runny. And then there was the floor...

In short, the room was a war zone, and Sam blamed the soldier standing in the middle of the room holding an open bag of coffee beans like it was a bomb.

“Sam.” Steve’s eyes were huge. A few more beans fell out of the bag and clicked across the tile floor. “You’re awake.”

“Uh huh,” said Sam, in a daze.

“I can explain,” Steve said hastily.

“Uh huh,” said Sam again.

He tore his eyes away from the coffee beans all over the floor and really looked at Steve, taking in the flour smeared across his t-shirt and jeans where he’d obviously wiped his hands. Something white was drying on the edge of his cheekbone and clumping in his hair. It looked like—

“Do you have pancake batter on your face?”

Steve blushed and rubbed a hand over his cheek — the wrong cheek.

“Other side,” Sam said, then added, “Never mind, I’ll get it.”

He closed the gap between them and licked his thumb, bringing it up to rub at the batter.

Steve laughed and pulled back, setting the coffee on the counter. “Jesus, Wilson, you’re not my mother,” he choked.

Sam gestured at the destruction surrounding them. “You sure about that? Explain yourself, young man,” he added, and he could hear his mama’s New Orleans burr in his voice.

Steve must have heard it, too, because he rolled his eyes. “I wanted to make you breakfast,” he explained.

“Hm,” said Sam, struggling to keep a straight face. “And how’d that work out for you?”

“Well, Bucky always said I could burn a place down boiling water—”

“Sounds like Bucky was a smart guy,” Sam commented.

“But I thought I’d try it anyway,” Steve went on, becoming more serious. “You do most of the cooking, but this morning, I wanted to do something for you. Especially after... you know.”

Suddenly, Sam did know, and he dropped the playful act. He stepped forward and put his hands on Steve’s shoulders, running his thumbs over the smooth fabric of his tight t-shirt.

“Hey,” Sam said softly. “I’m not mad at you.”

Steve was avoiding his gaze. “You were,” he protested.

“Yeah.” There was no sense denying it. “But we talked about it, you apologized like eight times, and I forgave you. Plus, you gave me the best blow job I think I’ve ever had,” he added, just to watch Steve’s cheeks go pink again. He never got tired of that blush.

“We’re good,” Sam reiterated when Steve didn’t reply. “Or we will be, once you clean up my kitchen.”

That startled a laugh out of Steve, and Sam leaned in to kiss his smile.

“You don’t have to try so hard. You’ve got me,” Sam said, pulling Steve into a close hug.

After a second, Steve’s arms came up around him, too. “But I want to keep you,” he mumbled against Sam’s hair.

It was the closest Steve had come to an outright declaration of his feelings for Sam, so Sam pulled back enough that he could kiss him for it. Steve turned his head, though.

“I’m not good at this,” he went on, staring at the stove. “This relationship thing. Seems like you spend an awful lot of your time putting up with me.”

“Stop that,” Sam said at once.

Steve turned back, seemingly surprised by Sam’s sharp tone, and Sam kissed him for real, dragging his lips across Steve’s in a sweet, messy slide. Sam walked them backwards, not breaking away, until Steve’s back was to the fridge door. He reacted with a grunt and chased Sam’s mouth when Sam pressed a hand into the centre of his chest and pulled back.

“I do not put up with you,” Sam told him firmly. “We put up with each other, complement each other. That’s how _this relationship thing_ works. You play to your strengths, and I play to mine, so we’re better together than we are apart. You got that?”

“Got it,” Steve replied, nodding.

He looked like he was going to say something more, but Sam slid his hand down Steve’s abs and pressed it against the fly of his jeans. Sam traced the line of his cock, which was getting harder by the second, and Steve inhaled sharply, his eyes fluttering shut. Sam’s dick was starting to get with the program, too, so he kissed Steve deeply, massaging him inside his jeans.

Steve’s breath was hitching in his throat, and he almost whined when Sam stopped. It was getting a little hard to think with how desperately Steve was looking at him, but Sam still had a point to make.

He pulled back, taking Steve’s hands off his waist and pinning his wrists against the cool surface of the fridge door. Steve pushed forward, like he wanted to be free — Sam knew he could break away if he really had to — but this was one of their favorite games.

“For example,” Sam began, “your strengths are cleaning my kitchen, throwing yourself off of high places, and—” he paused to suck a red mark into Steve’s neck that would fade in a few minutes “—sucking my cock like you were genetically engineered to do nothing else.”

Steve blushed again. He didn’t talk dirty much, and Sam didn’t mind picking up the slack. He smirked, watching Steve’s Adam’s apple bob as he gulped.

“While my strengths,” Sam went on, “include cooking, catching your dumb ass, and—” Sam wedged his knee between Steve’s legs, making him widen his stance “—fucking you until you come so hard you scream.”

“Sam,” Steve breathed.

He wiggled his wrists and strained forward, still not enough to break free. Sam tightened his grip nonetheless and leaned in just enough to let Steve’s lips brush his.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Can we— can you—?”

Sam held them there, less than an inch apart. “You want me to take you to bed?”

“No,” said Steve, and Sam was so surprised, his hands went slack on Steve’s wrists.

Steve took advantage of the moment and grabbed Sam’s shirt to yank him forward into a brief, fierce kiss before letting him go.

“I need to tell you something,” Steve said, breathless but determined. “Before. Because it doesn’t count if—”

“What?” asked Sam, concern quickly replacing all his arousal. “What’s wrong, Steve? Talk to me.”

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong, Sam,” Steve said hastily, shaking his head. “I just have to tell you.”

Sam bit back another dozen questions and nodded. “Okay. Tell me.”

Steve hesitated one more minute, then he seemed to steel himself, squaring his shoulders and taking a deep breath. His words came out, all in a rush.

“Sam, I love you. I just needed you to hear it.”

Sam felt a smile spreading across his face at hearing his own words come back to him. “Okay, then,” he said softly, and he stepped forward, hoping for another kiss.

Steve pulled back, though. His eyes were dancing around the kitchen, and he winced. “I was supposed to say it over coffee and pancakes, Sam, but I couldn’t get the batter to mix right, even though the box said to just add water, and then I burned the bacon, and the coffee beans...”

“Yeah, what exactly is the story with the coffee beans?” Sam asked, trying for stern curiosity but failing miserably — mainly because he was grinning like a fool. Steve loved him, and he’d actually said it.

Steve grimaced at the bean-covered floor. “I thought maybe I could crush them,” he mumbled.

“You what?”

“I couldn’t find your grinder, so I thought maybe if I just squeezed the bag, you know, super strength and all...”

Steve had turned bright red, and Sam had to lean on the counter for support, he was laughing so hard.

“You are unbelievable,” Sam managed to choke finally. “Next time, just ask, okay?”

Now Steve was the one grinning like a fool. “Right. Sorry, Sam.”

Sam took his hand off the counter and caught Steve’s hand in his. He breathed out a happy sigh. “I love you, too, so it’s okay. Your heart was in the right place. But for future reference, the grinder’s in the cupboard over the fridge, and I’m more of a waffles kind of guy.”

Steve’s goofy grin transformed into something sweet and sexy. He nodded. “Understood.”

He pulled at their joined hands, bringing Sam’s up to his lips, so he could kiss his fingers. Sam closed his eyes briefly; he loved it when Steve did that — his fingers were sensitive, for one thing, but it was also a sign of adoration, or so his mother always said.

Steve stepped back, pulling on Sam’s hand until Sam was pressing him back into the fridge again. But his own hands were free, roaming over Sam’s shoulders, down his chest and abs, and around to the small of his back. Steve drew him close, crushing their hips together, making Sam’s breath catch in his throat.

Steve was biting his bottom lip, daring him, so Sam took Steve’s hands away and wrenched his arms up over his head. He held them at the top edge of the freezer door; his hand wasn’t really big enough, but Steve was good at pretending.

“You want to let me go, so I can clean up the kitchen?” Steve asked innocently.

“Mm, not a chance,” Sam growled.

Steve went still, lowering his eyes to Sam’s mouth, so Sam leaned in, kissing Steve roughly as his other hand fumbled between them, where Steve’s cock was straining the zipper of his jeans.

“There you go,” Sam murmured when he finally managed to grasp the hot, smooth skin.

Steve sighed in relief when Sam started pumping it, slowly and steadily, as he kissed him, light and soft now, just barely dipping his tongue behind Steve’s lips, teasing himself almost as much as Steve. The head of his own cock was protruding from the fly of his sleep pants, brushing Steve’s thigh periodically; the friction of the denim was just this side of too much, but it kept Sam focused.

“Been a while, huh,” Sam said against Steve’s lips when, after a tortuous few minutes, Steve shoved his hips forward; Sam caught his arms at the last second and managed to hold him back. “Now you know how I felt last night.”

“Sam,” Steve said, and it was almost a whimper. “I can’t— last—”

“Don’t worry, baby, I got you,” Sam crooned.

He licked his palm and started stroking Steve with intent as he kissed him, rough and messy again, all tongue the way Steve liked it. Steve gasped when Sam suddenly thumbed the head of his cock, and broke away from Sam’s mouth as he came, the hot fluid spurting up over Sam’s wrist and wetting the hem of his t-shirt.

Sam jerked him through it, slowing to a stop when Steve sighed and rolled his head back against the fridge door, and Sam released him. Steve’s hands landed heavily on Sam’s shoulders, then slid down his back, and he pulled Sam close and held him there, tight against his body for few minutes.

“Oh god, Sam,” he mumbled finally, and he let Sam step away to wash his hands at the sink.

When he turned back, Steve’s eyes were still closed, his cheeks flushed a nice cherry pink, and his lips were red from Sam’s beard. Sam watched him breathe a minute, wondering if he’d dropped off to sleep right there in the kitchen.

“Didn’t wear you out already, did I?” Sam asked finally.

Steve opened his eyes and shook his head. He fisted a hand in Sam’s shirt and exerted exactly enough strength to haul him over forcefully but still have Sam’s mouth land gently on his. The kiss was lush and open, his pace relaxed now that he’d come.

“I’m still waiting for you to come through on your promise,” he said into Sam’s neck, as he reached down between them to rub at Sam’s stiffening cock through his pants.

“Huh?” Sam said. He was finding it difficult to think.

Steve pushed himself off the fridge and took Sam’s hand. “I believe you said something about making me scream?” he prompted.

“Oh.” Sam’s mouth was very dry, but he managed to get his line out. “That’s how it is?”

Steve gave him a wicked smile. “Oh, that’s how it is.”

Sam grinned back, and Steve kissed his fingers all the way to the bedroom.

**Author's Note:**

> The coffee beans detail is shamelessly stolen from an episode of _Angel_ , in which Cordelia buys whole bean coffee by accident and asks Angel to try crushing them with his super strength. It seemed to me like something Steve would try, too.


End file.
